Predator: Space Pirates!
by Raptor-Chick
Summary: A Commonwealth has been forged in the galaxy. It has survived wars, cultural differences and distance. But now, pirates threaten to tear it apart, preying on ships and cities. A new leader has forged the unorganized rabble into a force to be reckoned with
1. Introduction

_The introduction of my newest story. This is going to be a right fucked up story, the reason for the mature rating. So yeah, read on and enjoy? Perhaps bless me with reviews?_

_Ooman- Human._

Introduction

Stewart Campbell twisted in his restraints, struggling to look behind him, though it was no use. Even if the light was bright enough, he was tied much too tightly and with his wounded shoulder, it hurt too much. His breath came ragged and loud, his heart thundering, seeming to defy his oncoming death with its volume. Where the hell was that monster? Why could he not just get it over with?! Stewart did not fear death, at least, not anymore, but he was damned if he was going to wait happily for it! He writhed again. The movement caused the knife in his shoulder to grate painfully against bone. He gasped as the sudden sharp agony threatened to overcome him. Stars flickered before his eyes and he closed them, willing the faintness away.

"What are you waiting for? HUH? Just kill me all ready!" he yelled, "Stop playing and just fucking get it over with! I…" His voice broke. "I can't take this anymore! What are you, a coward? Fucking coward! KILL ME!"

Low, mad laughter echoed in the darkness surrounding the chill table. The monster's face loomed over him, hot, stinking breath washing over him.

"Call _me_ a coward!?" The monster reached over and twisted the knife.

Stewart screamed and screamed, until he tasted blood and blackness once again began to creep in.

The monster laughed loudly again, his ugly face contorted into a grin of pleasure. The sound seemed tinny and distant.

"Oh no you don't!" A needle plunged into his thigh. The welcoming darkness began to ebb, bringing the pain into sharp focus again. "I'm not done playing with you yet!"

"Just let me die…"

In answer, another blade appeared, waving before his eyes. It was pulled out of sight and then driven into his belly! The monstrous captain of the ship dragged it through his flesh, slitting him open!

"Look!" snarled the monster, holding his head and forcing it up.

Stewart, in his haze of pain, saw his belly, the sides splayed open, revealing his internal organs, gleaming with blood, pulsating. He started screaming again.

"SHUT UP!" roared the monster. "You will not die yet!" More mad cackling ensued. There was the sound of running water. The captain slid a needle into his arm. It was an IV. "There. That should keep you going for some time now."

The monster appeared in his field of vision again. He was now wearing sterile gloves. Flashing another foul grin, he raised a hand, wiggled his fingers and lowered them to the gaping wound on his belly. He stroked gently at the exposed guts. It was a horrible, perverted feeling.

"I could tear them all out now if I wished ooman! And you would still live! Not for long, but perhaps I could keep you alive for as long as three days. Could you imagine? Three days hollow, wracked by pain, slowly dying as toxins build up in your body… Or perhaps I should simply slash your intestines and sew you back up again? Another long, slow death as you putrefy from the inside out…"

Stewart sobbed, "No… no…"

The captain grunted and pulled away. He returned with something clenched in his fist. There was a pause before fire erupted on the edges of the wound! He had been holding salt.

Stewart Campbell shrieked, tasting blood. By the time the monster began sewing him back up again, without anything to numb the pain, his voice was gone. He rasped and wheezed, gnashing his teeth and twisting.

"I shall play with you longer. You are such _fun_! You will live, I promise this. I am very good at keeping my toys alive. And when I am finished with you, you will be broken and my own creature, perfectly obedient, mind perfectly blank and clean, a slate waiting to written upon, wanting nothing but to serve me!" He roared with laughter, deep and thunderous, until he gasped for breath, doubled over. "You will be mine, Stewart Campbell!"

_Aheheheh… Now that I've just traumatized all my readers and made them run away… Um, well, I don't know what to say. This is going to be very dark and foul with mature themes, so no little children should read this. Please give me reviews despite the monster that I am!_


	2. Chapter 1

_So, I have updated, as you can see. While there are no Yautja in this chapter, there are plenty of other aliens. I'm hoping this isn't too awkward, as I am trying to set up another sci-fi universe and a coherent story at the same time. But, I am very tired and I have to work in the morning, so I'll stop jabbering._

_Disclaimer of chocolate-y goodness: I own this incarnation of a Commonwealth, Insectoids, Hexens, Bat-cats and anything else that you've never read about before, including character personalities. I love my little head-babies that are my creations, so don't steal. It's not nice to steal children._

Chapter One

A week and a half earlier.

Stewart Campbell stretched lazily, refusing to open his eyes, though the morning sun shone in through the window, glowing warm and golden through his eyelids. Gentle, low humming came through the slightly open door. He rolled over in the soft bed, feeling good. His nose caught the delicious scent of cooking food; mouth-watering frying sausage, the comforting sweet smell of stripe-seed porridge.

He sighed. He was getting far too used to this sort of thing. Stewart finally forced himself to get up, swinging his feet to the wood floor, the air cool on his naked body. He scrubbed a hand through his carrot-orange hair, making it stick up even worse. He reached into the partially open dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of shorts, which he stepped into, buttoning up as he shuffled out of the bedroom, yawning all the while.

…..

In the kitchen, stood an enormous, lizard-like creature. It would stand at least twelve feet tall if it stood straight, though its legs were being held in a partial crouch, making it stand 'only' nine feet high. Instead of having the more common two arms, it had six instead, each of which seemed to be in motion. Its feet had four splayed toes, each tipped with a curving claw. A long tail waved slowly, divided into two for about two-thirds of its length. A pair of spiky, finned crests jutted upwards at the top of its skull. The whole creature was painted a variety of bright colors; yellow and black bands, scarlet spots and white accents, especially on his head, neck, shoulders and chest. The rest of his body was covered in a light layer of pale yellow paint. Rings jingled in the flesh of the crests. As Stewart walked in, the rear-most pair of eyes swivelled back to fix on him, pale yellow with '+'-sign shaped pupils.

"Morning, Thrinn." the human said in greeting. "Smells good."

"I was wondering when you would wake up." replied the alien lizard, turning around so all six eyes could fix on Stewart. "Everyday, I am shocked at how a creature could sleep away so much of the day so regularly."

"And I'm shocked at how you can get up before me, fix your paint and still find time to start breakfast."

The Hexen gave a warble of laughter, the corners of his long, toothy mouth twitching. "It is what we do. You are a guest, and should be treated as one. I do not get enough visitors."

Hexens were known for their hospitality to guests and despite their fearsome appearance, were incredibly civilized. Crime was extremely low in their culture and murder virtually unknown, a result of their habit of leaving their cities periodically to vent their primal instincts in the wild.

As Stewart sat down and started eating his breakfast, a trilling whistle sounded. He looked up, noticing an odd creature, about as big as a medium sized dog, but combining the features of feline and bat. It padded into the room on large hind-paws, tall, tufted ears pricked up.

"Hey, Stripe." Stewart said, reaching down to stroke its soft, tawny fur.

It chirped, fluttering its wings and begging.

He smirked and speared a piece of sausage on the end of his eating knife, holding it out to the creature.

It delicately pulled the meat off with a vicious set of teeth, and then retreated under the table to consume the morsel.

"You spoil him." scolded Thrinn. His back was turned, but he could still see the human and his pet courtesy of the rearmost set of eyes on his long skull.

"Eh." shrugged Stewart. He polished off his breakfast and helped his friend to clean up the dishes, though he could not do too much, as the house was built for Hexens, who were much taller than humans.

…..

After showering, Stewart got into his shorts again and was about to leave the house when a rhythmic tapping sounded. He grimaced and turned, seeing Thrinn standing in the hall, all six arms folded, his tail beating out a rhythm.

"God, Thrinn… Do I have to? I don't think I'll offend anyone here. Everyone is very open-minded."

"Today is a festival day. You must."

"I'm not getting naked."

"You don't have to be naked."

"I'm not covering myself in paint either."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes."

After several minutes of pointless arguing, Stewart gave up and allowed the Hexen to paint him. When he finally exited, he had several small patterns painted on him in blue and white. Thrinn explained that they showed his profession, which was a captain.

At least they were not as garish as the patterns of many other Hexens.

The paint served several purposes: One, it protected Hexens from sunburn. Two, it served to differentiate individuals. Three, certain patterns could show their occupation or their marital status.

They revelled in their bodies, believing clothing hid deformities and used paint instead. Visitors to their planet wore little in the way of clothing and often wore paint as well, though few had close Hexen friends to show them how to apply it properly. They found it amusing to watch the tourists march around the planet dressed in all the wrong patterns; it was like people wearing fashions that went out of style decades ago.

The street thronged with over a dozen different species, almost all splattered in a dizzying variety of colors. Music pulsed from street musicians, even though it was still early in the day. Steam and smoke from dozens of different cuisines filled the air.

Stewart stepped out of the way of a flock of chattering, bird-like Praetites and was nearly flattened by the huge, rumbling, mobile fish-bowl of an octopus-like Tocoranian.

It waved an apology, turning an embarrassed yellow.

He waved back, 'no worries', and continued on.

Soon, Stewart reached the area of the city where there were numerous hotels; the visitor's section. He pinged a message out and several minutes later, his crew materialized outside.

The crew was fairly small; it consisted of four humans, a pair of Insectoid brothers and one young Sar'rin male.

The humans were named Sylvia, Sarmila, Misha and Colin.

The Insectoid brothers were Hx and Brk, more commonly called Hex and Brook.

The Sar'rin was named Seer'trahn. The humans were painted in a variety of colors, like Stewart, and also, were not wearing too many items of clothing.

The small, winged Sar'rin wore his species traditional loincloth and not much else. They too came from a warm planet. He was also decorated in his tribal paint; black pigment around his eyes and a black stripe down his short muzzle.

The brothers were not decorated, their glossy brown carapace plain. They would not be leaving the visitor's neighbourhood. Hexens were not fond of them, courtesy of the Rebel War fifty years previous. While the brother's colony had not been involved, distrust did not heal easily.

"Ready to go make idiots out of ourselves?" Stewart asked with a grin.

Sylvia replied, "I don't think we should see our captain acting so irresponsible. We might get ideas into our heads, like mutiny."

"Ha ha." snorted the captain, "Hex?"

One of the Insectoids straightened, his antennae perking up.

"Ping me if we finally get more information about our mysterious employers about their even more mysterious cargo. Thank you." This last bit was signed in Commonwealth Sign Language, created by those who did not have a spoken language. Hex buzzed a reply, his wing-covers fluttering.

"Lets go get wasted! It's a festival day!"

…..

The next morning, Stewart was awakened by an irritating chime. It repeated once a minute. With difficulty, he peeled open one crusted eyelid, squinting it against the solar assault that streamed in the window. He stared blearily at his wrist com, while it periodically flashed and chimed. He reached out with a groan and shut it off, rolled over and started dropping off again.

Just as Stewart was descending the long slide that was sleep, something whistled shrilly! A bare millisecond later, that something collided with him.

Stewart swore, "STRIPE! Get the fuck off me!"

He flung the blankets off, Stripe with them. The Bat-cat shook off the covers and jumped into the air, flying up to the ceiling and digging his claws into the wood-paneled walls. He laid back his long, black-tufted ears and hissed at Stewart, showing off his impressive dental arrangement.

"Aw, shit. I'm sorry, Stripe. You just scared me. Urgh… My fucking head…" The human sat back down, putting his head in his hands, massaging the temples.

The Bat-cat appeared to come to a conclusion and jumped off the wall to land beside his human. He chirruped, rubbing his head against Stewart's arm. He was rewarded with attention and chittered happily as his ears were fondled.

"I am never drinking that much Dream-Tea again. And I mean it this time."

"Stewart! Feed your pet!" yelled Thrinn from another room. "He has been bothering me incessantly for hours!"

"I know, Thrinn!" he called back, though it made his head pound. Hexens, as the dominant predator in their ecosystem, had never truly domesticated animals and so had little understanding of those kept as companions. What use was an animal to them if they could not eat it?

Stewart scowled again. Thrinn had stayed out just as late as he had, yet was awake early as usual. It was rather irritating.

His wrist com chimed again. This time, he answered it.

"Yeah?" he said, his voice sounding clogged and rough. Stewart cleared it and tried again. "Yeah? What is it?"

It was Misha. "We just got a call back from our mysterious employer. They need us to make the shipment out tonight."

"Tonight?!"

"Yes. It's some big emergency. I don't know why they couldn't have told us a week ago. Then there would be no emergency."

"Fuck… All right, I'll be there in an hour to start overseeing everything."

"We have all ready started. You just need to sign. We saw how much Dream-Tea you drank."

"Then why do you need me?"

His crewmate laughed. "We need someone to place the blame on when shipments get damaged."

"Ha ha. It's still my ship. How would you like me to blow you out the airlock? At least tell me what sector the shipments going to; I never heard before."

"To Wurnia 2."

"Okay, that means we will have to go through the LV-506 and Xerx systems. Jeez… There has been some bandit activity there… I hope everything isn't backed up too much. I don't much want to wait for Commonwealth militia to do their useless security sweeps while we could be making jumps."

"Well, we're in luck. We have high priority."

"Excellent. See you in an hour." Stewart got up, feeling better than in days, despite his Dream-Tea hangover.

He pacified Stripe for the time being with a few strips of dry meat and jumped in the shower.

…..

Once clean and feeling like a new man, Stewart dressed in his spacer uniform, a trim thing consisting of black trousers with a green strip going up each leg, a white shirt, tough leather boots and a black jacket with a high collar. The jacket had been altered to have tough leather over each shoulder and on the back. He packed up the rest of the things he was taking.

Stewart patted his shoulder and the Bat-cat fluttered up obediently. He looked slightly ridiculous sitting up there, since he was much larger than any parrot old Terran seafarers had carried, but he was light, courtesy of his hollow bones and knew how to perch to minimize scratches and discomfort. Bat-cats were extremely intelligent.

As Stewart walked into the kitchen, absently making squeaking noises at his pet, which answered right back, he failed to notice his Hexen friend's expression right away, instead fixing meat for Stripe. Turning to put the dish down, he saw six eyes, staring intently at him.

"What's the matter? He didn't eat your paint again, did he?"

"What system are you going to?"

"Uh, Wurnia 2."

Thrinn hissed softly.

"Do not go."

"What? I have to go. We've been out of work too long. This trip will pay well. I can't live off your hospitality forever."

"There are more than bandits there."

"Well, we have enough pulse cannons to take down a whale. We'll be fine."

Thrinn stood up suddenly, stretching to his full twelve feet, and shouted, "You will not be fine! There are more than bandits there! Space pirates, you Terran fool!"

Stripe jumped, a ridge of hair lifting on his spine, though he would not leave his food.

"Space pirates are little better than bandits. The only difference is they have slightly better ships." Stewart scoffed.

"We will make a detour before we go meet the rest of your crew."

"What? Okay?" Stewart said in bewilderment, snatching up his pack.

…..

The walked through the cobbled stone streets, Stewart jogging to keep up with Thrinn. Stripe flew along, circling them, making fake attacks and zipping ahead to perch and accuse them with his yellow eyes that they moved too slowly.

"See that?" Thrinn said, placing one hand on the human's shoulder and pointing with another.

He found himself staring at a bundle of old clothing lying near a wall.

"What? It's just some trash. This isn't such a nice neighbourhood."

"Look again."

Another Hexen walked by, dropping some coins into a bowl. The bundle stirred, reaching out a four-fingered, clawed hand to paw at the money.

Someone yelled in the abrasive, trilling tongue of the Hexens. The bundle flinched and slowly stood, limping away.

"Is… Is that a _Hexen_? What's wrong with it?"

Thrinn sighed. "That was once a famous captain and war hero, champion of the Rebel War. He is now a crippled beggar thanks to your space pirates.

"He too was a freighter captain. When they caught him, they killed his entire crew, leaving only him alive since there was a valuable crate on board that he had voice-locked. The pirate's captain tortured him. After a while, it no longer was because of the crate; they managed to break it open. They tortured him for fun.

"First, they started cutting. Just flesh first, then he started hacking off other parts. He only has one useable set of arms now. The set below end at the elbow and the lowest end at the shoulder. They put out three of his eyes too and chopped off his tail at the divergence. One ankle was shattered and yet he still managed to escape. He made it back, but was not the same. His sanity had been severely damaged and… And we did not help it. You know we love our bodies, the beautiful symmetry, the flawless skin.

"He was horribly scarred, the symmetry ruined. He was treated badly, stared at, whispered about, shunned, and now you see him. A beggar. Someone great ruined because of the space pirates."

…..

They walked in silence for a long while. "Please, Stewart. Do not go. I am asking you as a friend."

"Fuck, Thrinn, I have to! My crew needs paying, so does my ship and this will pay well! I'll keep my lasers primed and keep my eyes out for any derelict pirate ships, okay?"

"Hrrr... Be careful. These are dangerous. Do not forget what I told you."

"I won't." replied the human. He waved as the Hexen turned to go.

Thrinn waved back. "Until next time, friend."

Stewart sighed and scrubbed his hands through his short orange hair, mussing it. Time to meet his employers, finally.

…..

Standing in the lobby of the space port offices was his crew. There seemed to be rather more Insectoids than usual. Clearly, they were his employers, though he had not known since they had only communicated with typed messages. There were five workers, like Hex and Brook. Besides them were two huge, heavily clawed soldiers, dark gray and solid. Finishing off the group were three small, sleek drones, bright metallic blue and glittering with inset gems and nervous.

"Well, what is the cargo?" he asked and simultaneously signed. One drone answered,

"A new queen."

"WHAT?!" Stewart yelled.


	3. Chapter 2

_So, an update at long last. I think I hate Christmas. At least work wise. So very many orders… Being a baker is not fun in December. I made zombie gingerbread men. They were tasty. Mmmyep. It is very cold right now. It usually isn't so cold this month, so it's kind of killing me. It's actually warmer in the freezer at work than outside. O.o _

Chapter 2

"What do you mean, a new queen?!? I'm not taking a queen! I value mine and my crew's lives!" Stewart yelled.

The same drone replied, "Please. You must! Her Majesty will not tolerate her daughter once she emerges; they will kill each other, or start a hive war! We cannot allow that! The Hexens will evict all of us from their planet if there is a conflict!"

"So move her to another city on the other side of the planet!"

"The Hexens will not allow more than one hive. Please. We need this. Her Highness is still in her cocoon; she will not emerge for more than a week or so. If we hurry, then by the time she emerges, we will be on Wurnia 2 and in the new hive. There is little risk involved, but we must ask you to proceed with the utmost urgency. You will be handsomely rewarded."

Stewart sighed and turned to Misha. "Did you know about this?"

The other man replied, "A short while before you. I think we should take this. There is not much risk involved and it will pay well. You said we needed the first job that came up…"

"Christ. I know."

He turned back to the Insectoids.

"Fine. But you had better swear on your queen's eggs that nothing will go amiss here."

The drones bowed as one, spreading their wing-covers. "We swear. The queen will not emerge until we reach Wurnia 2."

Stewart bowed back, sealing the deal.

Stripe squeaked, his wings flaring as he fought to hold his balance.

"All right, let's get the cargo loaded! We don't have all day! Come on!"

…..

Stewart sat slumped in the captain's chair, his face resting on one hand, the other drumming an impatient rhythm on the armrest.

The lead drone walked into the cockpit, the claws on his feet clicking noisily. He buzzed his mouthparts, the equivalent on a human clearing their throat.

Stewart swivelled his chair around.

"I do not mean to be troublesome, Captain Campbell, but we wish to know when the ship will be taking off."

"I have no clue. We have to wait for our scheduled departure time, and it's been delayed." he signed.

"But… How?"

"Flying a ship is not like flying with your own two wings. If I just decide to take off, there are chances that we could end up crashing into another ship. I don't really want that to happen, so would you just get back into the passenger's section and wait patiently?" His clipped gestures belied his polite words.

With a nervous flicker from his wing-covers, the drone turned and walked back out of the room, no doubt muttering rude things in the pheromone driven language of the Insectoids.

"Why do the bugs have to be so annoying, Stripe?' he growled absently.

The Bat-cat looked up upon hearing his name, chirping enquiringly.

…..

Finally, after waiting over an hour, their ship was given clearance to take off. Misha joined him in the co-pilot's seat, the two working as an efficient team. The freighter hummed as Stewart primed the engines, a faint vibration traveling through the bottoms of their feet. The ship lurched into the air, wobbling slightly as the winds common to Hexen buffeted it.

Stewart compensated and soon the ship was rising smoothly. He engaged the engines once it reached the correct height above the city and it shot into the sky, humming louder, almost sounding pleased at leaving the hot planet and returning once more to cool, open space.

"Broadcast our priority signal. I don't want to be delayed by the Commonwealth militia at all. The sooner we get this queen off my ship, the better I'll feel. The last thing we need is her Highness hatching and killing everyone because she doesn't like her current surroundings." he said to Misha.

"No prob. I feel the same way as you."

He flipped a switch, then pressed a button.

"Broadcasting."

"We'll start the first jump as soon as we're out of Hexen's gravity well."

Jump drives were a fairly new addition to the galaxy. The Grays had had them for centuries, maybe even thousands of years, but had not given the designs to any civilization, though they had brought the Commonwealth into being. Before, space journeys easily took years at a time, crew members entering stasis until they reached their destinations. Now journeys took only days or weeks. The jump drives that were in use were primitive compared to the Gray's, only able to make short jumps, usually between systems and they needed to cool between jumps, but the reclusive aliens certainly were not going to give any other species anything more than the general concept.

With a rising whine, the drive powered up.

"Engaging jump drive… Now." Stewart said, hand on a lever.

He slammed it down and the ship vanished from normal space.

…..

As the ship slowed, returning to normal space, the crew members could see a vast flotilla of ships, waiting in queues to be approved for their next jump while the militia cleared the area ahead.

"Hah! Look at the poor bastards, waiting out there… I love being able to do this…" Stewart cackled gleefully, accelerating the ship forward and past the myriad of freighters, pleasure cruisers and private vehicles. He thumbed his nose at them, though there was no way they could see him.

Below, the largely black planet of LV-506 turned sedately below, scarlet wounds and veins tracing volcanic eruptions, eerie blue-green marking out some of the larger toxic seas. Two of its four moons were visible. Once free of the gravity well, the jump drive powered up again and once more, they left normal space.

…..

The next several jumps passed without issue, Stewart and Misha taking a break for lunch after a couple hours. They were mostly passing through empty space right now. None of the systems on the way to Xerx were good for much, so they were unoccupied and there were little to no ships waiting to make jumps. While they waited for the jump drive to cool at one such spot, a gunship peeled off from a squadron of Commonwealth ships, hailing them.

"Captain Campbell here. What seems to be the problem?"

The video screen set on the dash flickered into life, showing the fierce, bat-like face of an Iotan.

"You are about to enter restricted space. This route is closed until we can complete a scan of the area. We believe there are space pirates." he, she? said in their rather off-key voice.

"We have a priority."

"Acknowledged. You are transmitting loud and clear. Please wait until the sweep is complete."

"I'm sorry, but we have an extremely… uh… Sensitive cargo and I would really like to get to the Wurnia system before it hatches and eats everyone."

"…What?" they asked, their military discipline breaking a moment.

"Insectoid queen. Long story. My ship has plenty of pulse cannons, fully charged. We should be able to repulse any pirate attack. I've seen their buckets of bolts. My _Basilisk_ is more than a match."

"We cannot allow you to continue. The sweep will only take a few hours."

"Listen, I need to make another nine jumps, and that's only what I have to do before refuelling on New Singapore. My clients need to get her Highness to Wurnia 2 and get her settled in her new hive before she hatches or she's not going to be happy. Her mother will not be happy either and I'm sure you know what happens when Insectoid queens aren't happy. The Rebel War was a result of that. We do not need the Hexens repulsing the Insectoids from their planet. Just, give me a minute…" He groaned. "Misha, go ask the drones if they can wait another couple of hours."

The tall man nodded and strode out of the cockpit.

He was back within a few moments.

"No. They don't want to wait. They said that enough time has been wasted. Brook said they've been getting anxious waiting. He's getting nervous around that cocoon, so god only knows what that means."

"Please wait. We are aware of your high priority. Do not make any rash moves."

Stewart sighed and gestured to Misha in sign language. He was betting the Iotan did not know it.

As he/she continued staring at Stewart, he knew he bet right. A final gesture and the jump drive began whining again.

The Iotan seemed to realize what was going on as their eyes widened and the gunship began accelerating towards the _Basilisk_.

"Stop in the name of the Commonwealth!"

"Engaging jump drive." Stewart said, yanking the lever down. The transmission was cut abruptly.

They soon came out in another system a few jumps later, an old one with a dull red giant star, surrounded by the rocky cores of planets baked into cinders by its heat, their atmospheres blown away long ago, any oceans boiled dry.

"Awful place. I hate systems like this. I'm always worried the stars will go nova while I'm in the general vicinity. We're taking another break before we make another jump."

In the main room of the freighter, the crew was sitting around eating something Colin had made in the small galley.

Only Hex and Brook were not eating, conversing silently to each other, their frequent antennae twitches and wing-cover flicks betraying their nervousness.

"What's the matter?"

"The cocoon. It is beginning to…" Hex trailed off, flexing the massive claws on his primary arms. "We are sensing pheromones. Her Highness is stirring."

"Fuck. Is she hatching?!?" he yelped.

"No." replied Brook. "Not yet. I can't explain. She is… Sending out pheromones to call workers to herself, to warn others that she is the new queen. I don't like it. We broke from our hives, so we could make our own decisions without worrying about our queen's wrath and this is too much like before!" Brook finished hotly, his mandibles bared from their sheaths, wing-covers flared.

"Christ. If I knew this was going to be so bad for you guys, I would have never taken this job."

Hex touched his brother's shoulder and the two conversed silently once again, Brook calming rapidly.

Hex signed, "We will be fine. We have no hive, and no queen will ever claim us as her subjects again."

With that, the Insectoids got up and walked out of the main room.

Sylvia said, "Is it really so bad for them?"

"I dunno." replied Colin. "But I do know that some queens are real bitches. They don't care about their subjects. In the Rebel War, a lot of workers and soldiers died because their queens were protesting the laws of the Commonwealth and many more were executed after the queens were killed, but they didn't really have much choice in the war. They had to fight."

"That was fifty years ago."

"So Insectoids have a long memory. So what?"

"Come on," Stewart said, raising his hands. "This is just a freight run. There is nothing to get pissy about. I know everyone is on edge because our freight could potentially hatch and kill everyone, but we still need to work together, eh?" He slumped back down and picked up his fork, watching his crew as they eyed one another, looking worried or grouchy.

He forked a piece of chicken and passed it up to Stripe, who sat on his chair back.

"Um, Captain?"

"Seer'trahn. You know I prefer it when everyone calls me by my first name."

"Sorry Cap – Stewart, but there seems to be something on the sensors." The Sar'rin took a few more steps into the room, gesturing back at the cock-pit with a three-fingered hand.

"What sort of thing?"

"We are being followed."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I checked and it is not a stray asteroid or anything like that. It is a ship."

"Coming." Stewart got up, tousling his orange hair unconsciously.

Stripe hopped off the chair back, beat his wings twice and lighted on his human's shoulder.

He sat down in the chair, the little Sar'rin hopping onto the co-pilot's chair, crouching, his tail tip twitching. Seer'trahn reached out and tapped a couple buttons with his claws, bringing up the display on the dash screen.

Stewart leaned forward and peered at the screen.

"Increase magnification."

The Sar'rin obeyed.

A ship sprang into view, distant, lights dimmed. It wasn't a design he was familiar with, though from the size, he thought it was perhaps a pleasure cruiser, a large fighter or a small gunship.

"Have you tried reaching them on the transmitter?"

"Yes. They do not seem to be using a frequency in common use."

"Fuckin' hell. Maybe those militia were actually telling the truth. Get everyone to battle stations. Now."

The Sar'rin trilled, his head crest flushing a deeper color in his rising excitement. He left the cockpit, yelling instructions.

Stewart primed his own lasers, not as powerful as the pulse cannons set on the flanks and aft of the ship, but sufficient for his needs. He doubted that they would actually be forced to turn and attack the strange ship. While the lasers charged, he increased power to the shields, concentrating them on the rear. He could hear everyone in the ship bustling around, rushing to stations. With a series of bleeps, they activated their stations, setting off a number of lights in the cockpit.

"Don't shoot first. Just be prepared. It may not be a threat, so I don't need to be going to jail just because I had a trigger-happy gunner."

There were a few weak chuckles.

Stewart smirked and increased the throttle, heading straight out of the system and away from all the dead planets and their gravity wells.

"We've got multiple targets!" yelled Sylvia suddenly.

"Where?"

"Everywhere!" replied Misha. "I have no idea how many, maybe ten or twelve? They keep darting around; it's hard to get a lock."

There were a few blasts from the cannons, deep, metallic bangs.

"Fuck! Missed!"

"Taking evasive action!" Stewart called, throwing the yoke to the left in a manoeuvre which if performed in atmosphere, would have made everyone sick.

"Why aren't they attacking? They are only making a few half-hearted passes at us… They're hardly shooting at all…" Misha growled.

Suddenly, there was a brief flare from the ship's lights and electronics, and everything went dead.

"Fucking EMP bombs!" howled Stewart, pounding the dead controls as he floated up. At least they wouldn't be running out of life support soon, though how long they would last, floating dead in space, was likely short.

Seer'trahn pushed himself into the cockpit, rowing himself along with his wings in the now weightless environment., his eyes using a slightly different spectrum of light than humans, so he could still see in the pitch black ship. He stared out the window.

"Something is coming."

Two larger ships had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, gliding unhurriedly over like giant predatory rays. They passed over head and soon, a dull thump was heard and felt as they clamped on.

"How the hell did they get organized?!?" snarled Stewart. There was no answer from the dead transmitters.

They waited in silence for what seemed like an age when the stars before them started looking odd. They shifted and rippled in a way that shouldn't be possible. Suddenly, the rippling evaporated and a huge ship was revealed, dark and ominous, like a bioluminescent shark.

A bay opened in the distant side and Stewart realized they were being towed towards it.


	4. Chapter 3

_Please read and review!_

_Many thanks to __**tain89**__ for reviewing!_

_Kainde Amedha: Hard Meat; Xenomorph._

Chapter 3

Stewart stood silently, his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching in his anger and terror. His hands were shackled before him, ditto to the rest of his crew and passengers. He could hear Stripe screeching as he fought the net he had been enveloped in. The Bat-cat did not do well in any sort of enclosure. They were all standing in a line in a ship bay which held the crippled _Basilisk_. Before the prisoners stood a group of some of the toughest beings Stewart had ever seen. They were clearly all pirates, marked with scars, tattoos, and piercings. Several were Hrakk, big, slow reptilians often employed as muscle. There were a couple Iotans as well as humans and even one of those rare and terrifying aliens, a Predator.

Predators, as they were commonly known throughout the galaxy, had refused to join the Commonwealth since their hunting, trophy-seeking culture would have to undergo radical change. Predators had been responsible for many raids on Commonwealth ships, using them as a hunting ground before the Elders of most clans had ordered them to stop. You sometimes saw an isolated Predator on Commonwealth worlds, usually the more backwater planets, and ones that had been evicted from their people or who simply did not wish to spend time with their own kind. They were universally feared. Stewart wasn't that surprised to see one among the scum.

A human came striding in. She was tall, but slender and of mixed race. She was pretty, in a hard-edged, cruel sort of way, like a dominatrix or something. As she drew closer, Stewart could see her eyes had been modded to resemble a cat's, green as gems.

"Shut that thing up before I kill it." she barked.

A pang of fear jolted through Stewart's chest.

"Stripe! Stripe, quiet!" he yelped.

His companion settled down, replacing his screeching with a low growl.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" the woman spat, smacking Stewart in the face with her fist.

He staggered. She was surprisingly strong.

Stewart bit back an angry curse. He had to mind his tongue until he knew exactly what was happening.

She walked past, inspecting the rest and hissed, "Take them away."

The thugs moved forward, seized him and dragged him away. He struggled weakly, but knew it was no hope. Hrakks were incredibly strong and nothing short of a well-placed laser blast or a truck to the face was going to slow one down.

…..

They were taken to a cell bay, where they were stripped and searched before being thrown into their individual prisons.

"Well, this sucks." Stewart muttered, leaning back on his bunk.

"Hey! Can anyone else hear me?" he called.

Silence.

"Great." he said aloud. "This place is sound-proofed too." He got up and paced around the room a few times. "The militia were wrong. This isn't a gaggle of pirates. This is a fleet. Fuck. More like an army. I wonder who is in charge of this crate? Not that bitch, I hope. She's got the military bearing though and those thugs seemed happy to obey her. Mind you, they would probably obey _anyone_ if it meant they could abuse another living creature. Stupid Hrakks… Wish they'd grow a brain. Probably going to bruise from those bastards. I'm getting fucking hungry. Are they going to feed us in here? Hell, why are we even still alive? Space pirates don't usually keep their prisoners alive." His mind was dragged back to the beggar Thrinn had showed him. Another jolt of fear shot through him. Were these the same space pirates?

…..

Several hours later, or perhaps even a day, he had no way of telling, the door banged open.

Stewart sat up; body waking instantly, though his mind was still filled with fog.

It was another Hrakk, or maybe the same one; he couldn't tell.

"Coming with me. Up! Up!" it rumbled in heavily accented Commonspeak.

Stewart took a few deep breaths, waking himself further. He slid off the hard cot and debated the prospects of bolting as opposed to obeying. He took a few steps forward, raising his hands. When the Hrakk's eyes were on his hands, he kicked the alien in the knee and dove between its legs.

The Hrakk let out a loud hiss of pain and surprise.

Stewart got a glimpse of a large cell bay with several other thugs standing guard or restraining his crew mates before something heavy and hard with muscle slammed into his back and knocked him flat.

"Oof!"

"Got you." the Hrakk said, sounding pleased with itself. It had pinned him with its short but strong tail.

It grabbed Stewart's ankles and dragged him up to dangle unceremoniously in the air. He flailed wildly. A fist caught the alien in its muscled belly, though it was only a glancing blow.

It grunted, "Stopping now." and proceeded to bounce Stewart's head on the ground.

"OUCH! Quit that, you fuckin' dinosaur! Let me go!"

"No. You quiet. Captain wants you."

_That_ got Stewart moving. There was no way _he_ wanted to meet a pirate captain! He thrashed again, forcing the Hrakk to once again bang his head on the floor.

He yowled, clutching his head.

"Would you just cut that out, Stewart?" Sylvia yelled. "You aren't helping anything! Just go along with them!"

He growled.

The Hrakk made a pleased sort of rumble and swung him bodily over its shoulder.

Stewart flamed with embarrassment over being carried like a fussy child in front of his crew.

From his rather unusual position, Stewart could see much of the ship as he was carried. He didn't have to watch where he was going, so he examined the halls, trying to memorize what way they were going. The ship seemed to be like any other military vessel on the inside, austere gray metal plates on walls, floor and ceiling. It could have been any one of a thousand ships, if not for the unusual outside design. He knew of no ship that looked so predatory, so organic and yet so mechanical all at once.

This ship had obviously had heavy modifications. He also saw that the lights had the pure white light that meant they were full-spectrum, for those that saw in more than one spectrum, like Insectoids, Sar'rin or Predators. No doubt there was writing or labels in materials that reflected other spectrums on the doors and panels. The air was the standard mix used in most Commonwealth ships; most species breathed about the same mix of gases. This was not a Commonwealth ship, though it had been outfitted in a Commonwealth shipyard.

The group of captors and prisoners stepped into a large elevator, where Stewart was put down. He grumbled and made a show of straightening his spacer uniform. He felt the familiar lurch in his stomach as they began moving upwards to whatever awaited them.

The doors rumbled open with the heavy clanks that spoke of thick plating. Typical of military ships to prevent damage if the hull was opened to vacuum during a battle.

He blinked. This was the bridge of the ship. It was huge, with the various stations set on tiers facing an enormous window. Between the window and the stations was a wide open area, set with chairs for viewing the void beyond.

Stewart twisted his head and noted the various crew members on the stations. Nearly all of them were Hexens, with a few humans or Predators spaced throughout.

Hexens were renowned as some of the finest pilots in the Commonwealth. Their multiple arms and ability to multitask gave them precise control over their ships. Hexen ships tended to have simple computer systems since they did not need to have computers assist them in many manoeuvres.

"Stand tall for Captain." Stewart's handler rumbled.

He stood.

That awful woman came striding down the stairs to meet them.

_She_ couldn't be the Captain! Could she? She glared at each and every member of Stewart's crew before rounding on Seer'trahn, picking the smallest crew member.

"What was your cargo, lizard?" she hissed, pulling out a snub-nosed laser blaster and ramming it into his soft under-jaw with every word. "Tell me!"

The Sar'rin squeaked and swallowed nervously, but said nothing.

She removed the safety and pressed the barrel more firmly into his jaw.

"Tell me if you want to keep your head!"

Seer'trahn squeaked again and launched into rapid Sar'rin, gabbling frantically away.

The cat-eyed woman snarled in frustration and struck the little being with the blaster, knocking him over and cutting off his vocalizations.

"Leave him alone!" Stewart barked, stepping out of line, his fists clenching.

"You dare-!"

"Enough, Leona." came a deep male voice, surprisingly rich, the sort that should announce entertainment vids.

She backed off quickly, scared, her posture lowering in submission.

What on Earth could scare that bitch?

A figure stood up from one of the high-backed chairs and walked indolently over, self-assured in every movement.

Stewart found himself looking at the biggest Predator he had ever seen. This had to be the Captain.

…..

The Predator had to be at least eight feet high, with incredibly broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He was built like a semi truck, muscles rippling like greased turtles under his hide and such hide it was!

He was coloured richly gold, fading to pale yellow on his belly, inner thighs and inner arms, speckled with black. Many of the markings seemed to be marred by faint scarring. His dreadlocks hung past his rear and were silvery white, decorated with dozens of engraved rings in gold and silver.

His armor was the gaudiest thing Stewart had seen since the festival day on Hexen, elegantly wrought, plated in silver with gold trim, etched with twisting designs. A gold and silver mask, fearsomely horned, hung on his belt along with a sheathed sword.

His face was twisted into a mocking smile below gold eyes, bright with madness. A small gold ring pierced his left bottom tusk.

"Poor Leona. Always a slave to her temper. Her modding damaged her mind; she could have killed you easily, had I not stepped in." said the Predator. "If she were not useful, I would have had her killed long ago" he added absently.

Stewart just stared.

"Very commendable, stepping in to defend a crew mate like that. He isn't even your species. I have known many who would have let him die if it saved their skins." The Predator frowned. "Kainde Amedha got your tongue?"

"Why should I bother talking to you? You're a pirate. Everything is lies anyway."

The Captain chuckled and switched gears abruptly. "Do you like my ship? I call her the _God's Bane_. She is the flagship of my fleet." He placed a hand on Stewart's shoulder, guiding him over to the window. He allowed himself to be propelled since if he tried to resist the brute strength in that arm, he would be bowled over.

The Captain gestured outwards.

What had to be hundreds of ships, of all sizes, types and classes, were visible, gliding like a school of fish through the black ocean of space.

"Holy shit…" he murmured. Many were small one or two person fighters, but still… The sheer amount of firepower…

"Yes… It is amazing, isn't it?"

Stewart wondered if the pirate Captain attacked any colonies. He had enough ships and there was no way he could supply them all by preying on freighters alone. It wasn't feasible. There were hundreds of colonies out there, many privately owned by companies or extremely rich citizens. No one would miss a few. Things happened all the time, out on the frontiers of explored space.

"And to think that a few decades ago, there was nothing like this. _I_ made this fleet. _I_ forged it from nothing. _I _am the greatest threat to the Commonwealth since the Rebel War!"

Stewart said nothing.

The Captain looked down at Stewart, a strange look on his horrible face.

He said, seemingly ignoring everyone else in the bridge, "I am curious as to what your cargo is; I have never seen anything like it before. It clearly is organic, but no one can guess as to what is inside."

"I'm not telling you."

"Look at you; middle-aged for a human, the captain of a small freighter, you own no other ships, not even your own home. How will you retire? How will you make a living? The Commonwealth is large and is not forgiving to small companies."

"I'm not likely to make a living anymore, am I?" Stewart scoffed. "I'm not stupid."

"Ah, but if you tell me what is in that cocoon, I will give you and your crew a position in my fleet and you will live."

He wondered why on Earth the Predator was so fixated on the queen's cocoon. A queen Insectoid would get him nowhere; they were demanding and dangerous. She would never share power.

"It must be something important or those Insectoid soldiers would not have defended it so hard. It was a pity they had to be shot. I could have found use for beings that were living tanks. Tell me and you shall be wealthy. You shall have power. You will have anything you could possibly desire. Orchivian dancing girls. Cetian Narcoweed. Gliese gems."

"No."

The Captain's mood changed abruptly, like a sudden storm.

"You lost your chance, human. You and your crew will die, but not yet." he snarled in a low voice. "Take them away!" he barked, flailing an arm and turning away.

His thugs came and grabbed the assembled crew.

"Separate them. I want them all in different cell bays!"

Stewart was once again in the clutches of his Hrakk handler and now he really began to wonder if there was any way he would survive.

…..

Stewart blinked. He had no idea where he was. He knew he had been knocked out by a drug, since when he had last opened his eyes, he had been in the now-familiar cell and now he was in a dark room, strapped to a table. At least it had not given him a headache.

He stared around, but the blackness was absolute.

Suddenly, a light came on over the table, blinding him in its intensity.

The deep voice of the pirate Captain chuckled with cold amusement.

As the searing red and black spots faded from Stewart's eyes, he could see him, lurking just at the limits of the light.

He was no longer dressed in his gaudy armor; the Predator was now only wearing a pair of loose pants and an equally loose robe, hanging open over his broad chest. His dreadlocks had been tied back and stripped of their rings.

"Now let's see what sorts of fun I shall have with you!"


	5. Chapter 4

_Ooo… Gruesomeness ahead. Also, extremely messed up. So, sounds like I'll be getting yet another job, one that is actually good and pays well and gives you raises and doesn't have hazardous equipment. Hooray for a safe workplace! Not much else is new, except for my growing hunger for reviews!_

Chapter 4

"How shall I have the most fun with you?" mused the monstrous Captain, striding around the table. "Perhaps mental torture? A little dripping water? An uncomfortable position? Sensory deprivation? No… You seem too strong for that. Too sure of yourself. Besides, it is usually boring."

He leaned in close to Stewart, so that he could see every little bristle on his brow and face, every speckle, the different shades of gold in his eyes, right down to the molten orange ring around the rim of his iris. Stewart's shoulder blades seemed to try to burrow into the table to get him as far from this Predator as possible.

"What about watching me torture your crew? Or that flying rat you call a pet. You are very compassionate; seeing someone you care for being hurt would wound you just as well as a knife would. Maybe later; there is always time for that. What if I took you? That could be very fun indeed." He gave a little purr, his eyes almost closing as he imagined it.

"Fat chance, you fuckwit. I'm bi. You won't be taking away any of my manliness. I'm comfortable with myself. Besides, I live with a Hexen. That doesn't scare me the least bit after hearing of some of the twisted shit that Thrinn likes to do. Go ahead. Rape me. All I'll have is a sore ass."

The Captain glared, clearly upset at some of his fun taken away from him.

"Perhaps I will just have some fun the conventional way."

The Predator turned away. There was splashing water as he washed his hands. When he walked back into the circle of light, his robe had been removed and a scalpel was gripped in his left hand.

Several hours later.

Stewart shivered, wracked with pain. He knew vaguely that he was going into shock, but didn't remember what to do about it. He was cold… So cold… But his hands hurt too much to let him pull the blanket tightly around him.

That bastard had sliced his hands to tatters and broken or dislocated several fingers. Blood was oozing from hundreds of cuts, none of which were dangerous, though they hurt terribly. That was the intention though. His muscles ached from the electrical shocks that the Predator given him. Several spots had been burned.

The worst part was that this was not the end; he had been told that in a few hours, he would be taken back out of his cell and played with a bit more.

He swore through chattering teeth that he'd kill that Predator bastard, that monster who called himself Lord Mab'ii'tang if he lived!

…..

Misha panted in fear, eyes opened as wide as they could go.

Oh god oh god oh god…

His frantic breathing made the tiny cage grow hot and stuffy. His back ached from being forcibly bent over. His legs had fallen asleep long ago.

Misha had managed to crush his claustrophobia after years of working on spaceships, but it was easy to conquer it there.

He had to get out! It was so small in here! It was so dark! He had to get out! He had to! Or he was going to suffocate! The walls seemed to shrink in tighter, pressing against his broad back.

Misha screamed in the blackness.

…..

Seertrahn craned his head frantically, trying to see over his shoulders. He couldn't! What was the Wounding Ghost Captain going to do to him? He had smelled the blood on him. Stewart's blood. His own captain was somewhere hurt, perhaps dead.

He hissed involuntarily in fear.

"Scared, are we?" purred the Wounding Ghost from somewhere behind him.

Seertrahn felt the blood drain out of his crest, leaving the vibrant reds, blues and yellows bleached of color and cold.

The monster laughed at his fear-response.

The little Sar'rin struggled again, trying vainly to free his tail, his wings, anything! After he halted in exhaustion, he felt the first stab of agony. That monster had cut his wing! His _wing_! He lay in helplessness as each membrane on his bat-like wings was methodically slit.

He screamed himself hoarse as he was rendered flightless in the worst possible way; helpless, and not even in battle, lying like a feeble infant.

…..

Sylvia and Sarmila huddled together, seeking comfort in the presence of another living being. They fearfully cast their eyes around the austere apartment of the Captain. It was huge and dimly lit, a massive window dominating two walls. A couple bizarre stone statues sat in corners of the room. There was little furniture beyond a large and ornate wooden cabinet, and an enormous bed. It was draped with blankets and furs. The two women had immediately scavenged a blanket each. The pirates that had brought them up here had also stripped them naked.

"What are we going to do?" whispered Sarmila. The sheer size and emptiness of the room prompted them to speak softly.

"I don't know. We should find weapons though. We don't know if that cabinet has anything useful in it." Hiking her blanket up and wrapping it more securely on, she trudged over to the cabinet.

Reaching up, Sylvia tested the door and then each drawer.

Locked. All of them.

"Fuck!" swore Sylvia. It felt good to swear. "Well, maybe there are some ornaments or something we can use to make weapons out of."

A quick inspection of the room revealed none. Well, she hadn't really expected any.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Sarmila began to cry softly. "Pull yourself together!" she growled.

The other woman began to cry harder. "W-what if h-he rapes us?!?"

Sylvia felt fear fluttering in her chest, but tried her best to quash it.

"This is all about domination and fear. He does this because he likes it. We have to be strong. Nothing takes the nasty urges out of a rapist like victims who aren't scared of him."

"I… I don't know if I can. He _knows_ I'm s-scared of him!"

Sylvia growled in frustration, pulling up her blanket again.

"We will get out of this, one way or another." She fell into silence, the only noise being Sarmila's soft weeping.

Faintly, echoing through the room, more felt than heard, was the sound of machinery.

The elevator.

Sarmila cried harder.

Sylvia's breath quickened. She felt the first shivery beginnings of an adrenaline rush, like when she manned one of the gun stations on the _Basilisk_.

The door opened and the Captain strode in, hands tucked into his belt.

"Good evening, ladies." he said conversationally, shrugging out of the loose robe and tossing it carelessly over a stone statue by the doors. He moved with the easy indolent grace of a warrior.

Sylvia clenched her blanket tighter around herself.

The Predator let a smile crawl over his ugly face. The little gold ring in his tusk glinted in the dim light. His eyes roamed over Sylvia's body, brazenly.

Her eyes narrowed. How could he find them attractive? They weren't even the same species. Did he find them attractive, or was it only the power he had over them?

"Don't cry now." he said, taking another few steps closer and reaching out, swiping a tear from Sarmila's cheek.

She screamed and threw herself away, over the bed. That seemed to please him even more.

"Don't touch her, you son of a bitch!" Sylvia drew her arm back and slapped him as hard as she could. Her palm and wrist ached from the blow, but she immediately brought her arm back again, this time closing her hand into a fist. She swung, but found her arm locked in an iron grip. The Predator was _smiling_, of all things!

"Ooh…" he purred. "That was nice… You're strong. I like that. So much more fun. But first…" He threw Sylvia away.

She tried to recover, but tripped on the blanket and went down heavily.

Sarmila screamed shrilly, fighting the Predator, who was straddling her by now, hands pinning her arms. He dipped his head down to what? Bite her? _Kiss_ her? Switching his grip, he pulled the woman's arms up so he could hold them with one enormous hand. He fumbled at his pants, undoing them with a fair amount of ease. He growled in pleasure, pushing them down and kicking them off.

Sarmila began to shriek like a banshee, thrashing while he struggled to get a knee between her legs.

"HEY!" Sylvia yelled, struggling up. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you shithead?!?"

"Huh?" he grunted, glancing at her. "Wait your turn. I will attend you soon enough."

"How dare you do this to someone? How would you like it if someone raped you?"

He thrummed happily. "I think I would like that quite a lot. Are you volunteering?"

Sylvia screamed her rage. "Here you are, a powerful being, with a small army at your disposal and all you want to do is rape and pillage?!?"

"Is there something wrong with that?" he asked, now climbing off Sarmila, still keeping his hold on her.

"YES! How on Earth would your family like that? How would your mother like it, knowing what you have done?"

He fell silent a moment, looking slightly upset.

Oh god, was her stupid plan to talk at him until he stopped actually going to work?

"You are a monster, doing this to helpless females!"

"And males." he supplied helpfully. Christ… The beast was nuttier than a fruitcake.

His brow furrowed and he looked slightly distracted.

"SHUT UP!" he roared suddenly, jumping up.

Sylvia resisted the urge to stare at his nakedness. Yikes…

"It's not true!" he continued, staring somewhere to the left of her, his eyes blazing. "I never did that!" For a moment, the Predator lapsed into a foreign language, growling and clicking away. "I just wanted to feel!" he cried, turning back to Sylvia. "They have taken so much from me! I am nothing but an empty shell now; I used to be so much more…" The Captain walked slowly away from them, staring out the window.

Sylvia and Sarmila exchanged looks, the other woman momentarily shocked out of her tears.

"This is all I am now; the leader of thugs. True, I have made them deadly warriors, given them power that they could never have dreamed of before, but, if I am not here, will they turn back into petty criminals?" He sighed deeply.

Sylvia was prompted to speak simply because she didn't really know what else to do. One moment he was about to rape them happily and now he wanted to talk. Fuckin' hell… "I am sure they will still be, um, still be warriors."

"NO!" he roared. "I am like the keystone on an arch; if I am gone, all will tumble! I keep my army through sheer will alone! I used to command _warriors_."

"Uh, when?"

He turned back, still oblivious to the fact that he was buck naked. "Long before you were born. Long before this ridiculous Commonwealth was in place. Thousands of years ago. I was the greatest warrior of my time. I was a god among insects. And they smashed me down because of that!"

"Um… Who?" asked Sylvia, now thoroughly confused.

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, lashing out at the air.

"What?"

"No. Not _you_. Them!" He waved his hand through the air, indicating all around. "You see?"

"Oh yes. Of course. How rude of them."

"Yes! They never leave me alone; always whispering and hissing, putting comments forward when they are not wanted! The gods put them up to it, you know."

"Really?"

"Yes. They were the ones that made me like this. I was the only warrior brave enough to challenge them and they punished me for it! I escaped thousands of years of torment to find out they still have punished me!" Anguish filled his insect-like face. "I can't _feel_. Not normal emotions and what I do feel is wrong!" He stalked over, flipping open the left wrist gauntlet. He punched in a code and they both sprang open with a hiss. The Predator dropped them on the floor.

Beneath was a mass of wrapped bandages, stained dully with crusts of the greenish liquid that must be his blood. He ripped at them with his claws.

Suddenly, she didn't want to see what was under them.

He thrust his forearms towards them, making her look anyways.

Where there should have been smooth golden flesh, there was instead a mass of scars and clotted wounds. She recoiled, unable to keep her revulsion hidden.

"I do this to feel; it is one of the only things that lets me." He ran his claws over his arms, the tips making soft scraping noises against the scabs.

The two women leaned away, disgusted.

The Predator straightened and walked away to the fine cabinet that they had tried to break into before. He opened it and came back with a small knife.

"No, don't…" Sylvia said, but it was too late: he had sliced another line into his flesh. Glowing green blood welled up behind the tip of the blade.

He shivered. He cut himself again and again, gasping and moaning softly.

Sarmila crawled away to the far side of the huge bed, wrapping a blanket back around herself.

"Gross…" muttered Sylvia.

The Predator slumped suddenly, dropping his bloody knife. He shuddered and started making sounds that had to be his species version of _crying_. Good god…

"Um… It's okay…" she murmured, tentatively reaching out and patting his shoulder.

The Predator suddenly threw his head back and keened loudly. "I want to be normal! I hate being cursed like this! I want to die!" With that, he reached down, picked up the knife again and began hacking at his arm. Glowing blood splattered around.

Sylvia watched as his fingers went limp, his tendons cut.

"Stop… Just stop!" Sylvia said, horrified and disgusted. She reached out and took the knife from his unresisting hand. She used it to cut a strip from a blanket. "Now come here."

He whimpered like a small child.

Sylvia reached out and re-bandaged his arm. "There. All better now."

The Predator reached over and wrapped his powerful arms around Sylvia. She prepared to stab him with the knife, to run and escape, but stopped when he rested his head on her shoulder with a deep sigh. What the fuck?!? He was more messed in the head than she thought. Completely insane. She put her arm around him anyway. It didn't feel right to ignore him when he was so distraught by god only knew what. He was still whimpering.

"Um, what's your name?"

"Mab'ii'tang." he said in a small voice.

Sylvia started to worm out of his grasp.

"No! Stay here with me. Please. The demons are out there." he said. So Sylvia and Mab'ii'tang sat there for a while. Finally, he went to sleep, slumped on his side, one arm across Sylvia's lap.

"Get up." Sarmila hissed. "We have to go."

"I can't. Whenever I try to move, he wakes up again. He's like a big baby."

"So kill him and let's go! We can get the rest of the crew and leave."

"I don't know how."

"What the fuck do you mean, you don't know how? Predators die as easy as any other being. Cut his throat."

"I… I don't know if I can."

Sarmila rolled her eyes in disgust. "What do you have now, Stockholm Syndrome? He was about to rape me, you jackass!"

He snorted and moved a little. The two women froze, hardly daring to breath, but he slept on.

"I mean I don't know how to kill him. You saw what he did; any other being with this body plan that did that would be dead. They would have bled out a long time ago. He hasn't. His bleeding stopped ages ago. There is something very wrong with him. I don't know what to do."

"You stupid bitch!" spat Sarmila, sliding off the bed and stomping to the far side of the room.

Sylvia groaned and hoped the other woman wouldn't do something stupid. Her fear had turned to anger.

Maybe she could convince him to let them go. He seemed to be in a receptive mood before. Hell, she had been able to talk him into a depression! Maybe they would all live through this.

_Yay! Disturbing and weird! So please give Raptor her delightful reviews! She loves them and they only make her write faster!_


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